Deja vu
by Yui Miyamoto
Summary: Asami is forced to confront a fear that threatens to crack his impenetrable, stoic mask…and heart.


**fandom - Viewfinder**  
 **title - deja vu**  
 **pairing - asami x takaba**  
 **description – Asami is forced to confront a fear that threatens to crack his impenetrable, stoic mask…and heart.  
**

 **Disclaimer – Yamane-sensei owns this. I'm just fascinated by her.**

 **Deja vu.**  
 **By miyamoto yui**

Under a thunderstorm, a decaying building is being washed away by the flooding piers.

That's what he sees as he eyes the article next to it. But nothing attracts him more than the caption under it that says: Photographer – Takaba Akihito. He studies the photo more than the article itself.  
The morning paper has become interesting as he drinks his coffee inside his black car. The driver keeps on going and he puts the paper down to look out the window.

His hand holds onto the paper. His head is mentally taking note to keep today's newspaper for later reference. For what? The man's not exactly sure how.

The phone goes off in a traditional tune that undoubtedly indicates a certain person of significance. He doesn't have to look at the number to know who it is. He looks out the window when he flips up the cover of the phone, knowing full well who will be on the other side of the late night call. When the voice that speaks isn't the one he expects, his eyes narrow as he unconsciously grips onto the phone even harder.

"He won't come! This is so stupid, so let me go!" a muffled voice shouts in the background.

 _That_ is the voice that should be talking into his ear.

This deep, insistent one announces, "We have something you want and we need a building that you have. Shall we do an exchange?"  
He laughs into the phone, amused at the audacity of the person who's willingly just issued their own death warrant. Surely, he won't take the bait.

"What makes you so sure that it's something that I want?"

When the phone echoes, he knows that he's been put on speakerphone. The shouting stops and one single comment comes out of that all too familiar rebellious voice, "Didn't I tell you that you were wasting your time?!"

Slap!  
The boy's voice fuzzes in and out, but the man on the phone can clearly hear him. "If there's one thing I know, it's how that person acts. I may not know what goes on in his mind, but I have a knack for figuring out what he'll do. And for you to provoke him makes him more obstinate."

Despite the situation, the man in the business suit takes out a cigarette and lights it with a composed face. Almost indifferently, he sternly says, "Don't bother me with your pettiness."

At this, on the other end of the phone, the photographer smiles bitterly while watching the unwanted companions around him. He can't ignore the deep, sharp pain that forcibly pierces down his chest through that cruel person's words. Maybe a knife slashing him could have been much kinder…

He bites his lip to keep from laughing sarcastically. He doesn't want the man to hear his torture, the seed of that man's pleasure.

Unconvinced, the one with the deep voice chuckles happily. "Come alone to _ hotel. I'll cut this now."  
Click.

Crack.  
The man with the dark suit clasps the phone in his hand. His precious phone's about to break, but he stops, remembering that there is no point in wasting a perfect good phone on such an inanity. "I have better things to do," he casually remarks while the driver silently listens and continues to drive towards his boss's office.

"But it is a challenge and I'm bored for the moment." He smirks while taking another puff of his cigarette. "This'll be better than entertaining the old men."

Looking out at Rainbow Bridge, he orders, "Turn around."

 **+/+/+**

 _/"Hmph. When I have enough money, I'll move far away."_

Tangled in the sheets, the naked blond made this comment with an annoyed tone, obviously frustrated at the fact that he once again subjected himself to such harsh treatment by the man who's pants were only partly zipped up. He leaned back on the blond's back just to spite him as he dried his hair by wiping it with a towel vigorously.

"And how do you plan to do that?" the older, dark-haired gentleman nonchalantly commented while reaching over to the stand next to the bed in order to take a drag of his cigarette.  
"Someday, I won't be easily found," the young man emphasized, hoping to get some reaction out of the man, who now was putting his cigarette back on the ashtray and drying his hair again.

There was no physical response. He was as calm as ever as he chuckled to himself. "Don't you know that I'll always find you, Takaba?"

This retort made the boy angrily flustered, half wishing and half protesting. But allthemore, he was upset at the inconclusive feelings that wouldn't give in to one side or the other. It confused him because it was a vicious cycle.

For the man, the more the boy protested, the more exciting it became.  
For him, the more he wanted to get away, the more he was involuntarily caught…

…and gradually, every time, almost wanting to be…

When the blond turned his body, his stomach touched the man's lower back. His eyes bore a grudge and hatred more than he could bear when the man's profile glanced at him. He couldn't see his eyes because of the towel, but the blond hated that all-knowing smirk with a passion.

Then, the boy said it with such conviction that they were both surprised by the voice of his unwavering resolve: "I assure you. Even if I have to kill myself, I won't let you have me."  
Without meaning to, the boy's arm wrapped around the man's waist, almost playfully contradicting his own words. The man stopped rubbing his hair as he pushed the towel onto his shoulders. He looked towards the open window.

"There are some places even you can't reach, Asami."

With a sad smile, the boy laughed to himself thinking that he was still really drunk and letting his body do as it wanted since his mind had lost all capacity to protest within the past couple of hours. Actually, maybe it was slow and torturous since the day they first met.  
Reason and logic were ignored when coming into the domain known as 'Asami'.

"Impossible," Asami answered resolutely and confidently while taking another drag of his cigarette.

The boy's eyes were growing heavy as his exhaustion was finally taking full effect over everything. His hand twitched in reaction to the man's one-word response. Drifting off to sleep, he couldn't help but grin a little at the man he understood, but didn't know anything about at the same time.

Motives and intentions were always distinct from one another.

When he started to snore, Asami turned his head to look down at the boy before him. The usually icy glance he gave to the world, for a second, turned into one of melting tenderness. He touched the boy's head, a bit troubled.

Before he could think more about it, his phone vibrated and he changed quickly in order to leave and get to his next appointment at 5am in the morning. There was never a second to rest, his mind always thinking. Always planning one step ahead.

While driving quickly across town, for once in his life, only when it came to that boy…  
…he was wasn't so sure of his own words./

He thinks of all this as he's driven to his target destination…

Impatiently, he looks at his watch as the driver opens the door for him right in front of the hotel. He laughs as he pulls on his shirt cuffs and shakes his head with an arrogance that announces his arrival with a 'I had some spare time' attitude. He walks towards the automatic glass doors with his chin up, taking out another cigarette from his pocket.  
He'd already instructed for everyone to standby. They told him to not fall for such a shabby, insulting annoyance, but all their boss said was, "You act as if I wasn't the best assassin before I came to this position." With that, the blustering immediately stopped.

To anger him was a punishment worse than hell. He had his own layer, after all…  
It was with just a phone call away because he wouldn't dirty his hands for trash.

But that rambunctious, troublesome boy is worth more than he'll ever admit to himself…

Coming to the lobby, two men shoot up and escort him into the nearest ballroom. In the empty set up, there is a middle-aged man whose hands are folded on top of one another. Asami immediately assumes that he's the one to talk to.  
Before anything, he takes out his prized gun and places it on the floor. The two guards inspect him for any more weapons, but step back when they find nothing.

Asami steps forward to the table before him and drops his cigarette onto the carpet, crushing it under his heel and much to their consternation. He eyes the middle-aged man with an unyielding expression. It is his signature piercing and persuasive look.

He means business.

And he wants Takaba. Now.

He doesn't say so, but the middle-aged man with the small patches of whitened hair grins more. "I'm sorry, but it isn't me that set this up. Our boss is with your cherished photographer. You'll have to find them yourself. They're in this hotel."  
Asami's eyes narrow as one hand goes into his pocket while the other touches the surface of the smooth table. Keeping his balance, he leans forward with an even deadlier expression than before.

"There are many rooms in this hotel, Asami-san. And you'll have to look for the photograph that matches that boy's works. When you do, he should be behind that door."  
"And if he isn't?"  
"You'll have to hand over that contract in Hong Kong for our 'imports' along with the building it was originally supposed to include. The one by that pier."  
"You waste my time for this nonsense because you couldn't secure the deal with those old men by yourselves?" Asami pushes himself off the table, amused at the predicament. Why does he have to participate in this charade because of their incompetence?  
"We could kill you right here, but we aren't that stupid. So, we need your 'assistance' in the manner."

Before he knows it, Asami takes a deep breath. He's sworn to protect the contract.  
The boy's just in the way of that…

Isn't that correct?

 **+/+/+**

 _/"The guests have been informed that there is a celebration in commemoration of this hotel's fifteenth anniversary. In doing preparations, there are prints framed on every wall for the occasion. You have to find the boy's picture."  
"Why are you so interested in him?"  
"If it wasn't for him, we would have gotten that deal."/_

With two guards, while the guests are sleeping (though an occasional few walk about), Asami plays a dull game of analyzing pictures. There are twenty-five floors and he passes by each and every wall for a few seconds. He looks at the angle, the overall presentation, the colors…every single detail. It's as if he's appraising individual paintings as an art dealer.

Somehow it's natural for him since he's one that measures beauty very severely.

Though he's already on the ninth floor, this is the first print he's stopped in front of for more than a mere glance. It is a woman holding a screaming child, but crossing her arms to cover his ears while pressing him to her chest. He doesn't know why he stops, but it intrigues him in an unusual way.  
Despite this, he moves onto the next picture frame. He's running out of time.

Even though he's been with Takaba many times, even though he's observed the boy in many situations, even though he's touched him in places no other person in the world has, there are still parts, much to his dismay, that he simply doesn't understand about the boy.  
He considers him an amusement, to say the least, but one that keeps him interested with the unpredictability of his reactions. Their values clash and yet they are sometimes very similar.

In the end, this whole situation proves to him over and over how much they do not know or understand each other. With each print, it solidifies the fact that they may be living with images they have of each other and contrast the reality before them.

Are they just living on the impressions they give to one another of what they want versus what's really there?

Asami keeps up his arrogant air about him, but deep inside, he's beginning to fully become ensnared by Takaba's words, "There are some places even you can't reach, Asami."

When they come to the elevator on the twenty-fifth floor, he tells the guards that there's one more place he wants to try. "The roof," he instructs firmly.

But when they push him out of the elevator, the doors close, but the elevator doesn't move. The two guards are on standby with their arms crossed as he pulls on his tie. He's annoyed at the undignified way he's been treated. However, nothing's prepared him as the chilly wind blows through his body when he turns around to the voice that calls him.

"First of all, I commend you for coming up here. Though it took you three hours to pass through everything, you endured such a troublesome task." The person claps slowly and loudly.  
His eyes focus on the direction the voice is coming from. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting all this time then."  
"So, you did not pick a room, but the roof. May I ask why?"

Asami smirks when he answers, "Because they are ALL of his prints."

The voice presses him as if it's loving his torture. "And how did you know that?"

"Because even though he takes a million random prints, the one common thing that binds them all together is…"

The voice alteration contraption is dropped to floor as the 'boss' comes out into the moonlight. As the boss stands with a contented, satisfied smile on his face, they both answer at the same time while eyeing one another,

"…they're ours. These are all the places we've ever been to, even if we just passed by one another."

Tap. Tap. Tap…

The pretty white moon shines on the figure before him. Asami takes a deep breath as they both stare at one another without wavering.

It is Takaba. Takaba Akihito…

He doesn't want to ask what is happening. He doesn't want to ask why.

Takaba takes his collar with one hand and kisses him right then and there. He presses a pill down his throat and he chokes on it, but it goes down anyway. Asami's still trying to be composed, but Takaba pushes his chest with all his might.

It is the place over Asami's heart.

"I am the best at what I do! In the beginning I was supposed to give the prints and information about you. That was all I was supposed to do, but you!"  
Asami becomes a bit dizzy since the pill's taken immediate effect. Again, Takaba pushes him and he falls down to the ground.

Though he looks defeated, he still has that arrogant smirk that urges Takaba's fury to rise. Takaba straddles himself on Asami's stomach as the wind blows harder. The boy's hand untucks his shirt and goes under it as he leans forward to lick his ear. "I wanted to throw it all back at you by helping these undercover detectives and wipe this grin off your face, but you won't give in even if it's me!"

Suddenly, Takaba clasps onto his collar with both of his hands and looks as if he's in pain, on the verge of tears, but is unable to cry a single tear. "You took away everything from me! My pride, my body, and then my soul!"

Asami looks at him and doesn't say a word. He doesn't smirk, but looks intently at Takaba's hurt face. Something inside of him starts to bleed.

"And the worse of it is that you treat me indifferently once you've had everything!" He shakes his head as he eyes him harshly with a grave voice as he desperately admits, "But I can't see anything but you anymore."

The man looks unmoved even though he wants to give in. He's fighting himself as he's choosing to react by holding onto him or to let his pride and reputation take over as it always does.

Carefully, he finally responds, "Even if you're in the way, I have to do what I have to do, Takaba."  
He reaches for something underneath his clothing…

"But I won't be able to do what I have to do because overtime, the prints will change into something unrecognizable. And I won't wait for that to happen." He takes a hold of Asami's hand and firmly grabs their overlapped hands while pointing the gun to his head. He smiles proudly, "Isn't this why I amuse you so much? You take away my freedom while I resist and we continue to play this game. Don't you remember what I said?"  
The man pulls his hand away, but the pill's weakened his body.

It's too late.

Takaba has his gun pointed towards his head, taunting him not in weakness, but with that freedom that he's prided himself in having all his life. It is a trait that Asami's always wanted, treasured, and continually tried to take hold of in order to monopolize this person he's grown fond of more than anything in the entire world.

"Takaba…" he threatens with a scathing tone.

The boy's voice goes low and dark. "Finally, I'll get away. One way or another and you won't find me."

He pulls on the trigger-  
"Akihito!"

 **+/+/+**

When Asami slowly sits up on the bed, he looks around with one hand over his throbbing head. He sighs as his blurry eyes try to reorientate him to where is he exactly. The white Somy alarm clock reads '4:38am'.  
As he focuses on the figure next to him, Takaba is holding onto him, scolding him in his sleep, "Are you leaving already? Don't forget to close the door. Last time you didn't bother to lock it…"  
But his arms are around his waist, holding him tighter even though his words tell him to go away.

Asami closes his eyes and opens them again. He takes his phone into his hand and brushes it against Takaba's lower abdomen. Feeling tickled, Takaba laughs in response but is still asleep.  
The dark-haired one leans down to turn him over and kiss his body while pressing the phone against Takaba's skin in all his sensitive areas like his neck, nipples, and knees.

Purring into his ear, he tells Takaba as the boy opens his sleepy eyes, "No matter what you say, I will always find you. If you don't know that by now, I'll make you understand that you'll never escape me."  
When the boy barely fully opens his eyes, Asami kisses his nipples while pressing the vibrating phone onto his thighs.

"Ah…" the boy says while trying to hold on his shoulders. Asami continues to kiss him all over, in a starving, yet slow matter. He's leaving marks everywhere…visibly showing everything that is his.

As it should be.

He puts the phone to the side and ignores it while turning Takaba to his stomach.

Getting cream from one side of the bed, he pushes his fingers into Takaba as Takaba grips onto the sheets in between his fingers. It's torture that things are slower than usual because his body becomes hotter under the burning caresses…

"Itai…" he calls as the man pushes into him, deeper and deeper with their hands over one another, grasping more and more onto the sheets in pain.  
He closes his eyes as Asami kisses the nape of his neck with such unforgiving affection…

"What has gotten into you?" he dares not ask.  
Even though Takaba is protesting with all his might, he doesn't seem to want to question this sudden, irrational urge on Asami's part. But he can feel his hunger and desperation the more he kisses him and his body can't help but want more of it…  
until it permeates his mind…

He wants to ask why but somehow understands without having to utter a word.

And the more Asami recalls the dream, the more he is disturbed at having confronted the fears inside of his own mind. When had the boy invaded his being? When did they start to believe that they needed one another?

Then, out of nowhere, Takaba breathlessly lets out, "Ryuichi…"  
It makes him want him more and Takaba's muffled screams make it even harder to stop…

Would they ever get away from one another, a desire eating away at everything that makes them who they are?

When Asami gets up, Takaba tiredly looks at him changing his clothes. Without a word, they watched one another quietly, almost warmly. Whatever the case, Takaba knows that he's free to do as he wants until Asami looks for him once again. Though it looks like all the odds are against them, he knows he'll meet Asami again.  
Somewhere, somehow.

It is a necessity they can no longer live without.

When Takaba's eyes close, shirtless Asami sits on the side of the bed to touch Takaba's head. He thinks of what Takaba asked him while holding him from behind and not staying awake to hear the answer: "Don't you ever fear anything?"

That night, when Takaba fell asleep, his lips were touching the scar embedded deepest onto his back.

 _/"From the kind of family you come from, you'll never find someone you can completely trust. That is the kind of world we live in, though we didn't choose to be in it."  
The young Asami looks at his uncle who's holding up a sake cup to the air while looking at the moon. He doesn't say anything._

By age five, he's already mastered keeping everything in. Holding back everything from the world even though he doesn't want to.

Though he wants to be a child, he can't cry out or question why./

At that moment, Asami goes back into Takaba's bed and holds him longer than he usually does. This time, he's sure to be there when Takaba wakes up later on that morning, even if he'll shout and scold him for coming and staying longer than before.

Is it serving as a warning?  
As if in a dejavu, he suddenly recalls another dream he had a long time ago and it coincides with the words he replied with to Takaba's question before that nightmare: "I can't answer your question, Akihito."

 _The more my craving for you is, it becomes too painful to even speak of anymore.  
Together, we walk through our layer of hell with open eyes…_

Never satisfied; never ending. It consumes everything.

Even ourselves.

 **Owari.**

Author's note - Trust me when I say that I took a whole month and a half to think of this. I had such a hard time thinking about what to do because I really liked doing 'conviction'. However, I wanted to steer away from that and try something new with higher challenges, like this contest. I really did take this seriously.

I hope that my efforts show it even though it was an intensely, difficult struggle. The most challenging part was not only to make it strong, but what perspective to choose and how to present it. In the end, at the last minute, I did something quite different than I was used to so this came out as an experimental piece for style. I know I put myself at a disadvantage because I recognize that my strength is in making the first person perspective. But now, I was focused on making you the reader feel something from an 'objective' point of view that didn't have 'I'.

You have no idea how stressed I made myself to make this because I really wanted to deliver a new piece that kept the characterization correct, but with more passion than I thought I was capable of.

Thank you very much.

Love,  
yui

Friday, July 15, 2005  
12:58:04 AM


End file.
